Days of a Naughty Schoolboy
by TheWeekendSinner
Summary: Follow Gale Hawthorne through his childhood years, complete with the usual troubles of a teenage boy in the Seam: food, fights, friends, family, and of course: hot girls.
1. History

**Summary: ****Follow Gale Hawthorne through his childhood years, complete with the usual troubles of a teenage boy in the Seam: food, fights, friends, family, and of course: hot girls. A collection of one-shots before the 74****th**** Games.**

**xxx**

**A/N: In no particular order. In some he's a teenager, in some a kid. Some of these are dark, some light and fluffy, and some in between. A series of one-shots for the everyday Gale-lover. ;) (Later chapters may or may not hike this story up to an M rating) **

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><p><strong>One: HISTORY<strong>

Gale looks at the clock and feels startled.

Only two minutes have passed since he last checked?

The clock is rigged. He's sure of it.

According to him, the clock is always rigged during History.

_Tenth grade history is fucking useless, _he thinks irritably to himself as the boredom threatens to drown him.

He has better things to do with his time than sit through an hour of old Mrs. Roland incessantly spouting bullshit propaganda about the _treasonous rebels_ and the _unfortunate Dark Days_, no doubt crafted by the idiots that call themselves the Capitol.

So he lets his mind drift to other things. More useful things. Such as that morning's hunting trip with Katniss. And what he's going to do with the money he earned at the Hob (Shoelaces for Vick? Carrots for Mom?). And that hot Town girl sitting two rows in front of him. To be more specific, that hot Town girl's _ass_.

Mrs. Roland is saying something. She's facing his direction, her thin, chapped lips moving ceaselessly, barking random words at the class. Gale doesn't hear anything though. He sees her, but whatever she's saying is buzzing through his ears, not sounding like anything intelligible.

"Mr. Hawthorne! _Mr. Hawthorne!"_

Gale looks up. Had she been talking to him?

"Yes, Mrs. Roland?"

The entire class turns to face him. If there had been anyone else in his place, they would've jerked upright, cheeks red, timidly answering the bitch. Not Gale. Oh no.

He lifts his head off the table and leans his back against the squeaky chair with a relaxed expression on his face, shaking the straight black bangs out of his eyes, waiting for the old lady to continue.

She smiles nastily at him. Mrs. Roland has never liked Gale much. Not that he cares.

"So, Mr. Hawthorne. I'm sure we'd all be delighted to hear you answer!" she rasps out.

Answer..._what_, exactly?

"Could you please repeat the question, ma'am?" Gale asks carelessly.

He can practically see the steam being released from his teacher's head, but nonetheless, she manages to retain her composure and with a sickly sweet voice, she says, "Mr. Hawthorne. What was the reason for the Treaty of Treason?"

How fabulous. The bitch even _rhymes_.

As for the question itself, Gale knows the "book answer." Everyone does.

_The Treaty of Treason was fabricated in order to punish the selfish rebels for attempting to conquer the Capitol and bring down the administrative officials so they could procure riches and resources for the Districts, even when they were being supplied adequately by the government of Panem. _

But just 'cause it's in the books, doesn't mean it's true.

And Gale is not much for lies.

"The Treaty of Treason," he starts, making sure his words are as formal and bookish as possible, "was fabricated in order to keep the Districts in line through means of degradation by the Hunger Games and starvation by the sorry supply of food, so that the Capitol could have their riches and entertainment without further... disturbances from the rest of Panem."

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Gale had given cheeky replies in class before. But none of them had been as treasonous as this one.

Mrs. Roland is standing there dumbly, with her mouth slightly agape.

His classmates are staring at him wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

His friend, Heath, sitting at his right hisses, "What the _hell_ was that, Hawthorne?"

Gale doesn't know himself. He just knows he had to say it.

Finally, Mrs. Roland seems to pull herself together and says, her voice still sounding thrown, "That is...incorrect, Mr. Hawthorne."

Gale is surprised to hear that her voice is devoid of further nastiness. He expects her to send him to the principal's office, so he is even more astonished when she simply says, "Corona Saltzen, would you like to give us the correct answer, please?"

As the girl she called upon gives the so-called "correct answer", Gale's mind is reeling.

Mrs. Roland hadn't punished him because, after everything, no matter how much she despises him, she is still a District 12 citizen.

And she, along with the rest of his classmates, knows that what he had said was the truth, and nothing less than the truth.

Gale has been lucky so far. The things he thinks, the things he says, the things he does...he hasn't been punished for them.

Yet.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that! Reviews would definitely be appreciated. :D <strong>


	2. The Wall

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read, favorited, or added this story to their alerts list. Special thanks to Ellenka, Cloud-Lover26, Theonechance, K, KidTantei, Solaryllis, and cherri0196 for reviewing. Hope y'all enjoy this next one (it's a bit darker than the first)!**

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><p><strong>Two: THE WALL<strong>

The Seam is far scarier at night than it is in broad daylight.

Not for Gale though. Not for most of the Seam kids. They've been trudging through the narrow mazes of shabbily built homes and dirt roads their whole lives.

So here he sits, at around nine o' clock, under the glow of a dimly lit lamp with a group of his friends. They're drinking cans of cheap beer from the Hob and playing cards, betting on stupid things like pencils and bits of soap. Only the things they have to spare.

Which isn't much, obviously.

Somewhere in the middle of a lengthy game of poker, Gale sees her.

A dark-haired girl he recalls from his class. He's not sure of her name, but he doesn't care. What he does care about though, is her see-through shirt and the generous cleavage displayed.

She's smiling seductively at them, leaning against the side of a building.

His friend, Heath, lets out a low whistle. "That is one hot slut," he murmurs under his breath.

"What's her name?" Gale asks just as quietly.

His other friend, Abe, replies, "Sylvia, I think." After a pause, he adds, "People call her the Queen of the Wall."

To most people, that would sound like complete rubbish.

But Gale and his friends know they've hit the jackpot.

Well, they will have, once they get her.

Heath starts to get up. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just –"

Abe stops him. "Hey, hey, hey. Slow down, there. I saw her first."

"You did _not_–"

Gale sighs exasperatedly. His friends can hardly be sixteen, the way they behave. They're pathetic. He knows who really deserves the girl, but he has a better idea than to fight like a child.

"Hey," he interrupts his friends' arguing. "Calm the fuck down." After his friends have quieted down, he continues: "How 'bout this? Whoever wins the game," he nods at the cards laid out on the ground, "wins the girl."

Heath and Abe look at each other and grin. Heath nods in agreement, and Abe says, "Deal."

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><p>After ten minutes, Gale finds himself staring at five cards.<p>

Ace of Diamonds. King of Diamonds. Queen of Diamonds. Jack of Diamonds. 10 of Diamonds.

A royal flush.

Gale's won the game.

He smirks as his friends shrug in defeat.

"I almost won," Heath grumbles. "If it weren't for that _stupid_ jack of diamonds..."

Abe, on the other hand, is grinning from ear-to-ear. "Good luck, man," he says to Gale. "We'll be waiting right here." He winks.

Gale jumps to his feet and makes his way over to –what's her name, again? –_Sylvia_.

She looks better up close than she did from where he'd been sitting before.

She has on a thin, poorly-sewn (not that Gale minds) sleeveless shirt with a plunging neckline, and tight, frayed leggings.

"Hey," he says huskily. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?"

She smirks at him. "Waiting for a pretty boy like you to come and get me."

"Oh?" He leans in closer, his voice breathy now. "So I've got you now?"

The corner of her full, pink mouth twitches upward. "Not yet." She gently traces his lips with her finger. "Not here."

"Then where?" With his chest so close to hers, Gale feels the front of his trousers begin to feel too tight.

She pushes him away slightly and takes his hand. "I'll show you where."

Five minutes later, they're standing in front of a brick wall at the edge of the Seam. _The_ Wall. About twenty or thirty yards ahead is another electric fence, kept there to prevent people leaving the district. Not that it's switched on or anything.

Like most else in District 12, it's pretty much useless.

Sylvia turns to Gale and puts her hands on his muscular chest. She leans in, and without further ado, she presses her lips to his.

Her hands are wrapped around his face and head, crushing fistfuls of his black hair. Her tongue is in his mouth. He sucks on it, and she lets out a moan.

He backs her towards the wall. Slowly, step-by-step.

Finally, he pushes her against it, pinning her hands above her head. Sounds of pleasure escape her as Gale kisses her neck, strokes her body. She grabs his hand and places it on her breast. He squeezes, and she whimpers.

Ten minutes later, their clothes are off.

After another ten, he's inside her.

And for yet another ten, he loves her. Loves her for letting him forget, even if it's only for a few minutes. She lets him forget that he and his family have next to nothing when it comes to money. She lets him forget the measly amounts of stew his mother is able to pour onto his siblings' dinner plates. She lets him forget Posy's hungry crying, and the growls of Vick and Rory's stomachs.

And while he loves her, he lets his fingers stroke her in places that make her scream his name. Her nails dig deep into his back, and he loves that too. Because that pain is better than the pain of not being able to feed his family to the fullest, the pain of not being able to buy medicine for his sick baby brothers and sister, the pain he feels because of the wretched Capitol, the pain he feels as Rory's twelfth birthday approaches closer and closer and closer.

He continues to stroke her, until she explodes. He can feel the sudden rush of wetness between her legs and now, it feels even better.

He thrusts and he thrusts, until he, too, explodes: his strong, firm hands grasping her round, plump bottom tightly. And at this point, he loves her the most because right now, his mind is full of nothing but her, nothing but the ecstasy filling him in all the right places.

But he's careful too. Careful to pull out of her, because there are some things that people in the Seam just cannot afford.

Another ten minutes, and his clothes are back on and he's making his way to where his friends are still waiting for him.

When Gale reaches them, they look up excitedly.

He doesn't say anything, and just takes a seat next to them.

They gaze expectantly at him, but he still doesn't say anything.

"So?" Heath finally asks. "Did you fuck her or not?"

Gale smirks and finally relents. "I fucked her, alright. Took her right up against the wall."

Heath laughs as Abe whistles, saying, "_Sweet_, man."

He's still in a daze of sex and alcohol as he creeps quietly back into his house later that night. And the minute he lays his eyes on the sleeping forms of his too-thin siblings, he knows he can't make himself _forget_. Not forever.

And maybe he doesn't want to forget.

He does not want to forgive.

He wants _them_ to _pay_.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that! :D Let me know what ya think! :) <strong>


	3. Awkward Questions

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. **

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reading/following this story. Special thanks to Ellenka, Cloud-Lover26, cherri0196, Miki-Chan, PeetaMyLove, and Solaryllis for reviewing! This next one is rather fluffy and light. Hope you enjoy. :D **

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><p><strong>Three: AWKWARD QUESTIONS<strong>

The mid-afternoon sun shines brightly on their necks as Gale, Rory, and Vick make their way home from school. Vick is going on and on about how he colored a map of District 12 with bright yellow crayons (he's only in first grade, after all), while Rory seems to be lost in his thoughts.

As soon as their house is in view, Vick squeals, "Mommy!" and races to the front door.

At that moment, Gale feels Rory tap his shoulder. He looks down at his nine-year-old brother.

"Gale?" Rory asks. His voice sounds a bit nervous and it makes Gale stop in his tracks.

"Yeah, bro?"

"I was wondering about...something."

Gale feels wary. Would it be about the Hunger Games? The tesserae?

Maybe this will be the right time to tell him to never, ever take out tesserae, no matter what.

So he braces himself for a hurricane of questions. "What's up, Ror?" he prompts casually.

"I...if I asked you about a –a _word_, would you tell me about it?" _Tesserae_.

"Sure, bro."

"I..." Rory takes a deep breath. "I was wondering what happens during..." –_the Hunger Games_ – "sex."

_Sex?_

Gale tries to keep his expression neutral. But it's hard.

This was not the _word_ he was expecting.

"What exactly do you want to know about, bro?" Gale asks.

"What is it, exactly? What happens?"

"Well, tell me what you know about it."

Rory thinks for a second. "Well, Caleb told me it's how babies are made."

"He's right."

"So is that how Posy was made? Is that how _we_ were made?"

"Yep."

"So...Mom and Dad did sex?"

_Ugh. _

"So, what else did Caleb tell you?" Gale changes the subject.

"Well...he said that when people do sex, their... _private parts _touch."

Oh God. How is Gale supposed to explain this? "Uh, yeah. They do."

Rory's still looking at him, as though expecting further elucidation. Gale just presses on, "Any more questions?"

Rory seems kind of disappointed, but then asks, "Two more."

"Shoot, bro."

"Caleb says sex is fun. Is it?"

"It can be, when it's with the right person. Otherwise, it could be a big mistake and you might feel really, really awful about it."

Rory nods before blurting out his last question. "Have you done sex?"

Well. Has he had –or _done_, according to his brother –sex?

He's went pretty far with some girls.

But not all the way.

And he is not going to explain all that to his little brother.

"No," Gale says. It's mostly true. "And," he adds as an afterthought, "you should wait for someone you really care about before doing it."

Gale isn't sure if he's going to take his own advice, but it seems like the right thing to say to your baby bro.

Rory nods again, slowly. He looks like some sort of philosopher, trying to figure out the meaning of life.

Gale punches his shoulder. "Race you to the front door," he challenges.

Rory breaks out of his daze and laughs, taking off. "Last one there is a rotten squirrel!"

Gale laughs as he follows him home.

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><p><strong>AN: Yep, that was nothing too heavy. Hope you liked it, and as always, reviews are appreciated. **


	4. Strawberries

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reading this story! Special thanks to Ellenka, Cloud-Lover26, teamGale143, an anonymous reviewer, rcee, ShibuHaraLuvr, cherri0196, Solaryllis, anonymus, hoeoverbros, Miki-Chan, and Aliya for the latest reviews! **

**BTW: Just in case there's any confusion, these one-shots are **_**NOT**_** in chronological order! He might be 17 in one, 10 in another! :D **

**Hope you enjoy this next one! :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: STRAWBERRIES <strong>

"So," Gale says, gutting the squirrel, "what should we do next?"

Katniss hesitates before saying, "I know a place. A strawberry patch."

Gale looks up.

Lately, he and Katniss had begun to open up a lot about each other and the things they know. This weird feeling is starting to creep up slowly between each other.

A feeling that he might call _trust_.

So he trusts her this time too, and half an hour later they're out of the woods with a belt of squirrels and more strawberries than he'd ever seen in his life.

Once they're back in the Seam, they go about their usual route, selling squirrels to the baker and trading at the Hob.

Sunday being a busy day for trading, they're left with a satisfying pile of coins jingling happily in their pockets, as well as a squirrel apiece for their families and the strawberries.

Gale holds the scarlet fruits up. "What do we do with these?"

Katniss doesn't hesitate this time. "The mayor likes strawberries. We'll get ten for a sack of them."

And that's how for the first time in his life, he finds himself standing in front of the mayor's house, pressing the doorbell with Katniss at his side.

The door is yanked open from the inside, and Gale expects to meet with a servant or perhaps the paunchy old mayor himself, but it's not either one of those.

It's the Undersee girl. He's seen her before, at school. She's in Katniss's class, he thinks.

She looks nothing like Katniss though, with her blonde ringlets and glossed lips and perfectly ironed purple dress and the two rather prominent bumps on her chest (she does have three square meals to eat a day, after all).

"Katniss!" she says with a smile when she sees them.

"Hi, Madge," Katniss greets, holding out the sack of berries.

The girl called _Madge_ takes them and says, "How much?"

"The usual ten."

Madge reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a burgundy leather wallet.

A wallet that if sold, could probably pay for at least three months –if not more –worth of bread, vegetables, soap, and kerosene.

Madge hands ten over to Katniss, and her eyes suddenly land on Gale. She looks flustered for a second before politely asking, "Who's your friend?"

In the few months that Katniss and Gale have been hunting partners and..._friends_, he supposes, they've learned quite a bit about each other.

And by now the former knows that Gale is not going to be answering that question himself, so she graciously takes over and says, "Gale. Gale Hawthorne."

(Besides, judging from Madge's expression, he has a sneaking suspicion she knows very well who he is. Most of the girls at school do.

Townies and their stupid formalities.)

Madge bites her lips, her cheeks flaming red. "H-hello, Gale."

He grunts back.

Katniss shoots him a look, but he is not going to be acting all chummy-chummy with the mayor's daughter, the girl whose perfect purple dress could feed his family for months, the girl whose father is so closely linked with the Capitol.

Although he will appreciate (privately, of course) the two large mounds on her chest.

Just when the atmosphere around them cannot possibly get more awkward, Madge says, "Well, I'll see you two at school then," nodding at the both of them.

"Bye, Madge," Katniss replies, and Madge closes the door, tactfully not waiting for Gale's response.

Once the Undersee girl is out of earshot, Katniss says, "Couldn't you try to be a bit more...friendly?"

His stony silence is an adequate answer for her.

They walk through the Seam till they reach Katniss's place.

"Same time tomorrow?" Katniss says.

Gale raises a surprised eyebrow. It was usually he who initiated all their hunting trips and meetings.

He guesses that Katniss is starting to trust him the same way he is starting to trust her.

"Same time," he confirms.

Before he makes his way home, there's one place he intends to stop by.

He continues toward the edge of the Seam, a place near the mines, until he reaches what one may call either a very, very large mound or a rather small mountain of dark grey silicate.

The slag heap. One of the few worthwhile places in District 12.

There awaits a girl from his class with golden tresses and crimson red nails and a sheer white dress so impossibly short he's surprised it still manages to cover her.

He strides over to her and can't stop the smirk that glides over his face as he presses his lips to hers.

As he lets his hands frisk her slender but well-fed Town-girl body, he can't help but think of a certain purple dress and all the things it covered from his sight.

His smirk widens as he plans on making another trip here soon.

One with the Undersee girl.

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><p><strong>AN: Several more Madge one-shots coming soon! (AGAIN: NOT NECESSARILY IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)**

**Reviews are appreciated as always. :) **


	5. Two Buttons Down

**A/N: The following one-shot is inspired by Valor, Valeria by aimmyarrowshigh (go read it if you haven't yet!). Consider this a fanfiction of a fanfiction.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: TWO BUTTONS DOWN<strong>

Katniss and Gale stride into the Hob, bustling at this time of day, the air laced with the scents of stale bread and liquor and Greasy Sae's stew.

Stocked with freshly caught meat and a collection of herbs, they saunter over to Sae and proudly present a generous delivery of wild dog. The old woman cocks an eyebrow and lets out an impressed whistle over the muted chatter floating around the building.

"She's a fine one," Sae comments in her usual drawl. Her gaze flits over the young hunters. "Shot 'er down, didja?"

"It was one of Gale's snares, actually," Katniss replies. Gale feels an unexpected thrill to hear the pride, though controlled, in her voice.

He nods at them, running a hand through his hair cockily. "That's right. Damn big, this one," he gloats. "Think it's a marvel she managed to fit through that door."

Katniss scowls at that, not quite managing to hide the twitch of her lips. "_I_ think it's a marvel your _ego_ manages to fit through that door."

Gale thinks it's a marvel how she can make him laugh the way she does.

After settling a fair price for the dog, Katniss slips away to sell off a few herbs, leaving Gale with a rabbit for Ripper.

The one-armed liquor vendor gazes at his catch and puts a hand on her bony hip. "Three," she offers.

"Five," Gale barters stubbornly.

"Four-fifty," Ripper concedes, "_if_you skin 'er for me."

"Deal," Gale agrees, sitting himself down on the floor beside Ripper's stall, whipping out his knife. As Ripper hands him a gutting dish, her voice is low as she adds, "I'll give you an extra _two_ if you unbutton a couple."

Gale looks up, confused. "Couple o' what?"

Ripper sighs exasperatedly. "Couple o' _those_, boy!"

Gale's mouth goes dry as he realizes what Ripper is asking of him.

_Think of Posy,_he tells himself sternly. _You're doing this for Posy._

And this? This is nothing. Stripping down won't strip his _dignity_.

Gale shakes his head to clear it.

Two. An extra _two_.

That's a handful of mint for Rory's cold and a bar of soap and half a pail of milk.

And so Gale unbuttons his black shirt with clammy hands, his sweat-coated fingers slipping on the poorly-stitched buttons. He stops at the fourth one, leaving his chest bare for Ripper to see.

The middle-aged woman smirks, satisfied, and goes back to her brewing. She eyes his exposed body hungrily, his pectoral lines perfectly visible. His muscles ripple as he guts the rabbit, angling himself towards his..._client_?

No. No, he isn't _selling_ himself. He _isn't_, he's sure of it.

When Ripper hands him the promised six-fifty, the cash jingling in his pockets doesn't sound quite as _mellifluous_ as it should, as it normally _would_.

He brushes off the thought as he makes his way into the town square to buy bread and soap, telling himself he hadn't sold any part of himself, _he hadn't_.

What he'd done was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_But there's always that stepping stone, son,_his father had once told him. _Always that gateway drug._

That was so, _so_ long ago, about something else that he can't remember exactly.

Gale tells himself it was different then. Now those words mean nothing –_nothing_ –as they lie buried yards beneath the ground, scattered like shards of glass amongst the dirt and the coal and the decaying remains of his father's body.

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><p>So the next day, and the next day, and the days after that, he <em>unbuttons a couple<em> for her, with her shameless gaze on him as he works.

Eventually, word spreads –as it always does in District 12 –about the sensual hunter who will unbutton his shirt for you while gutting your game.

One day, Gale finds himself at the bakery, waiting to trade in a squirrel for a loaf of bread. To his surprise, it's not the baker who awaits him, but his scowling, pudgy wife. The scowling, pudgy wife who _despises_ squirrel.

She gives him a once-over and then barks irritably: "I'll take that rabbit ya got there."

Gale frowns. The rabbit is supposed to be for supper tonight. But he realizes he shouldn't play any games here: he's dealing with the Bitch with the Bread after all.

So he nods in agreement, at which the wife snaps, "How much d'ya want?"

"A loaf of barley, ma'am." Gale hates being polite to this _witch_, but alas –niceties are a must, even in a world with class divisions and the Hunger Games.

"One of your measly rabbits for a loaf of this? Not a chance, boy," she scoffs.

"I'll gut it for you."

At this, her head cocks up in interest. Gale doesn't like the way her condescending expression is slowly melting away, her suspicious eyes morphing into something distant, something spiked with a disturbing sort of curiosity, something like _lust_.

"Fine," she nods, that glazed look still in her eyes. "But–" her eyes narrow– "I want your shirt unbuttoned."

"Excuse me?"

"Your little show isn't exclusive, is it? Shirt. Unbuttoned. Or you can kiss this bread good-bye." She twirls the loaf around in her hands, mocking him.

_Think of Posy. Vick. Rory._

He nods. "Yes, ma'am," he obliges, undoing two buttons of his threadbare shirt.

"More, boy!" the baker's wife snarls. "I want it fully undone."

Gale sighs, defeated, obeying without another word. His strong, coarse fingers get to work on his buttons, slowly revealing his entire upper body, a little skinny yet_so firm_: his sturdy chest and his rock-hard midsection, garnished with a thin sheen of perspiration.

The wife enjoys her show, making him face her directly as he works at gutting the animal. He feels her eyes burn through his body, but he ignores her, instead focusing on the task at hand.

At last, when he is done, he gets up off the floor and holds up the dish.

The wife looks him and up-and-down once more before snapping, "Well, come over here, boy."

He complies and strides over to her, placing the large dish on the counter. She stands about a yard away. He reaches out for the loaf.

"Come and get it." Her voice is low, guttural.

Hesitantly, Gale steps closer, his hand still out for the bread. There's a _disgusting_ smile on the bitch's face. She doesn't budge, waiting for him to come _still closer_.

So he edges closer and closer, until their chests meet. She has meaty, drooping breasts, her white shirt far too low-cut to appear flattering on her. Her breath reeks of onions, and that stupid smirk is still plastered across her face.

"Here's your bread, boy," the wife says huskily, licking her lips. The sight of her repulses Gale. "Just like I promised." She stuffs the bread into his arms, brushing her bust against his bare chest for longer than necessary. After that, she quickly steps back, and lets out a nasty laugh. "You Seam brats are good for something after all, I suppose."

Anger explodes through Gale, but he grits his teeth and turns around before he slips up and lets something spiteful escape his tongue.

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><p>The next day it's the florist's wife, and the day after the butcher's. And the days after that, the Mellark <em>bitch<em> pays him an extra _two-fifty_ if he works completely shirtless.

_There's always that gateway drug, Gale,_ his father's words echo through his head.

He shakes it off. He knows when to say _no_, when the line is crossed, where the limits are.

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><p>But everyone knows that in the districts of Panem, those lines are always blurred, the limits constantly changing. You could be crossing them all, and <em>you'd never even know<em>.

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><p><strong>AN: I was thinking about uploading this on Saturday, but decided it has just been far too long. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. :)**


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